


Self-Worth

by starchitect



Series: Sailing Without a Compass [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alfyn is a golden boy, Alfyn is ready to give him one :)), Angst?, Idiots in Love, Implied spoilers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nicknames, Self-Worth Issues, Sickfic?, Therion (Octopath Traveler) Needs a Hug, Therion eats apple seeds, Therion is easy to fluster if you push the right buttons, idk - Freeform, let Therion be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchitect/pseuds/starchitect
Summary: He’s not even sure if the weird way his stomach does flips when Alfyn is around is normal or not. Or the way his heart skips a beat every time his name rolls off Alfyn’s tongue, laced with nothing but gentleness and care. All he knows is that he wishes it wouldstop,because it’s distracting and Therion has no idea how he’s going to say goodbye to Alfyn once their journey is over now that he’s gotten attached.
Relationships: Alfyn Greengrass/Therion
Series: Sailing Without a Compass [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620613
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Self-Worth

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for clicking on this :V
> 
> this was my first Octopath fic so it's not that good but I hope you like it regardless  
> Alfyn and Theri are a little out of character cuz I was still getting a feel for how to write them, think of this as like. character dynamic practice lmao

“What were you _thinking,_ Therion?!”

Alfyn’s concerned yells ring throughout the forest where he and Therion have made camp. He paces back and forth, his hair a mess from combing his fingers through it anxiously. When the thief doesn’t respond, he sighs and shakes his head, returning to his restless pacing. 

“You could have died,” he starts again, fidgeting with the strap of his satchel. “I mean, it’s good that you didn’t, but…” He groans. “Why did you have to be so reckless?! We were _clearly_ outmatched!”

Therion shifts in his place on his makeshift bed, averting his gaze from his worried companion. He’s really not in the mood to be getting a lecture, especially when his right shoulder hurts like hell due to a large monster-induced cut. To be fair, he insisted that Alfyn back off and let it heal on its own, but the fact that his fellow traveler is pacing and rambling rather uneasily isn’t making it any better.

The thief grunts and pulls an apple out of his bag, making sure to use his left arm, which proves to be slightly difficult. He’s already tuned Alfyn out, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the blond realizes this, but it’s worth it for a few minutes.

With that, he takes a bite of the red fruit, allowing his thoughts to wander. As Alfyn continues to speak to an empty audience, Therion can’t help but be curious as to why the apothecary bothered to bring him back to camp after he took a hit from the monster they were facing. Sure, Alfyn’s a nice guy, and it’s kind of his _job_ to care for others, but Therion is a _thief._ People shouldn’t rescue thieves, especially one as worthless as himself. He’s never had anyone care about him, so there’s no reason why he should believe that Alfyn does, even if he _is_ an apothecary.

The thief proceeds to munch on his apple while he ponders his companion’s reasoning behind bringing him back here. Once he gets down to the core, he’s suddenly pulled from his thoughts when Alfyn turns to him with an expectant expression and tension in his eyes. Therion thinks he heard him say something along the lines of _“I’m worried about you”_ but he’s not sure, because he wasn’t paying attention. He looks up at his fellow traveler, who frowns at his disinterest. 

“You weren’t even listenin’, were you?”

“Not really, no,” Therion mumbles. “Was it something important?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The apothecary huffs at his attitude. He takes a deep breath to keep himself from groaning loudly in frustration again.

“Look, I know you’re in pain, Therion. Will you _please_ let me take a look at your shoulder?”

“I already told you, I’m _fine,”_ the thief snaps. He picks up his apple core to take a bite out of it, but Alfyn stops him.

“H-hold on there, buddy! You’re not gonna eat that, are you?”

Therion shrugs, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulder after doing so.

“Yeah,” he answers, putting on his best poker face. “Is there a problem?”

“Well, yeah!” Alfyn exclaims. “The seeds can be poisonous. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

The thief scoffs in mild amusement. “Pfft, _no._ Look, I’ve been eating these things for years. And since I haven’t died yet, I’m sure it’s fine.”

His point made, he finishes off the core, while Alfyn watches in horror.

“So,” Therion begins, unsheathing his dagger to clean off the monster blood. “Are you gonna leave me alone now?”

His companion looks slightly hurt at that. “I mean… If ya really want me to.”

The truth is, Therion doesn’t actually want him to leave. But there are some things he needs to think about, and having Alfyn looming over him is only going to distract him. That said, there’s something about his fellow traveler that the thief is reluctant to admit.

Ever since he and Darius... _parted ways,_ he promised himself that he would never allow anyone else to hurt him. He couldn’t risk anyone getting too close, which is why he insisted on working alone.

But Alfyn has never once hurt him in the time they’ve been traveling together. He’s been nothing but kind and considerate, and Therion doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s done his best not to get attached, but somehow Alfyn has managed to weave his way into the stubborn thief’s heart.

Which is exactly why he needs his space. He’s never allowed himself time to fall in love until now, and time is something he could really use at this moment. For his first experience with the feeling...it’s a lot to process. He’s not even sure if the weird way his stomach does flips when Alfyn is around is normal or not. Or the way his heart skips a beat every time his name rolls off Alfyn’s tongue, laced with nothing but gentleness and care. All he knows is that he wishes it would _stop,_ because it’s distracting and Therion has no idea how he’s going to say goodbye to Alfyn once their journey is over now that he’s gotten attached.

And the worst part is that he can’t stop thinking about Alfyn. His dumb hairstyle, and his soft, brown eyes, and his… His kind, bleeding heart. Alfyn cares about everyone he meets. Even worthless, petty thieves like Therion. It makes him feel...warm. Something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

 _...Damn._ Why does he have to be so...so…

“Therion?”

Therion snaps out of his thoughts. He turns to the apothecary, who still hasn’t left his bedside, eyeing him with a concerned expression.

“You okay bud? Your face is really red all of a sudden... You’re not sick, are ya?”

“I…” Therion starts, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I-I’m fine,” he answers briskly, turning his head to hide his quickly reddening cheeks. 

“...You sure?”

He coughs. “Y-yeah. Just a little tired, that’s all. Tough battle, you know?”

Alfyn sighs and withdraws.

“Alright. I’ll give you some space.” There’s a hint of disappointment in his voice as he stands.

“I’m gonna have to treat that shoulder sooner or later, y’know.”

“Yeah...whatever.”

“Oh, so you’ll let me?”

“Sure, fine,” the thief agrees reluctantly. “Just...not right now.”

* * *

Alfyn decides to pass the time by reorganizing the contents of his satchel. He fishes out various types of bandages and healing items, and before long his mind is consumed by thoughts of Therion. In all honesty, he never thought he’d be traveling with a thief, but after so long, he wouldn’t trade Therion’s company for anything.

Regardless, Alfyn knows that something is troubling the young man. He doesn’t know much about his past, but from what little information Therion has revealed, it’s obviously not very pretty. The apothecary can only wonder what could have happened to his fellow traveler to make him so cold and withdrawn. 

However, Therion _has_ shown signs of trust in the time that they’ve been traveling together, intentional or not. Alfyn can tell that Therion doesn’t mind his company, but it seems he’s too headstrong to admit it. It’s kind of funny when he thinks about it, but Alfyn doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

Still, he wants to help in any way he can. It’s clear that Therion has suffered a lot in his life, and if Alfyn can help him move past...whatever it is that’s bothering him, then that’s enough. Although, he wouldn’t be opposed to helping him develop a sense of self-worth, considering the lack of which almost got him killed today. 

It came as a bit of a surprise at first, but throughout their travels, Alfyn has developed some...feelings for the thief. He cares about Therion a lot, and if he could _just_ let him take care of his blasted shoulder, then maybe he could get him to understand that.

And maybe… Maybe he’ll even come clean and tell him how he feels.

Keyword: _maybe._

“Hey, Alfyn?”

The blond is pulled from his thoughts by Therion’s soft voice. The thief isn’t facing him, in preference of resting on his side with his back to the camp. Alfyn is surprised that he was careful not to lay on his injured shoulder. It seems like his words from earlier had gotten through, if only slightly.

“What’s up, Theri?” he asks coolly. 

At that, his fellow traveler sits up faster than he could say “shucks” and whips his head around to face him. 

“Th… _Theri?”_ he echoes, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“Er, sorry, that was a bit too forward,” the apothecary frets, raising his hands apologetically. “Nicknames are kind of a habit for me. I won’t use it if you don’t like it.”

“Forget it,” Therion turns back around. “I don’t really care.”

Alfyn is pretty sure the thief _does_ care, but he doesn’t push it.

Therion rolls his shoulder, regretting it immediately afterward. “So,” he begins, a painful grimace crossing his features. “You gonna patch me up or not?”

Alfyn’s eyes sparkle, happy that Therion is willing to cooperate now.

“Absolutely,” he grins. “Lemme set up real quick.”

He makes his way to the thief’s side of camp and procures a disinfectant and some bandages while Therion saves him the trouble of removing his shawl and rolling up his sleeve. Alfyn is grateful for that, and it’s definitely not because he’s allowed a close look at Therion’s toned muscle. 

Gods, he’s a mess. 

The blond shakes his head and pours a couple of drops of the disinfectant onto a cleaning cloth. He takes a look at the cut across Therion’s shoulder, and _wow,_ that’s one hell of a wound.

“This is gonna hurt,” he cautions, holding the cloth a couple of inches away from the injury. 

“Just put it on, already,” Therion demands, though Alfyn senses a hint of dread in his voice.

“Alright, tough guy,” he surrenders, and sets about his work. As he cleans out the wound, gently pressing cloth to marred flesh, he’s acutely aware of the sharp hisses of pain escaping his patient. Upon glancing up, he sees his companion with his eyes clamped shut and his teeth clenched. He puts his work on hold momentarily.

“That bad, huh?” 

Therion opens his eyes, relaxing slightly. He averts his gaze in lieu of a response.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” Alfyn reassures him softly. “Should have let me take care of this sooner, though...”

Silence falls between the two travelers once again as the blond finishes cleaning out the gash on the thief’s shoulder and proceeds to wrap it in a bandage. Another minute passes before it is broken again, this time by Therion.

“...Why.”

The way he says it, it’s less of a question and more of a demand. Alfyn gives his patient a puzzled expression.

“Why did you bring me back to camp?” the thief elaborates. “It would have been so easy to leave me there.”

Alfyn pauses momentarily. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, why do you even bother with me? I’m not helping you achieve anything. I’m just some petty thief who got sent on a fetch quest because he was too ambitious and got caught.”

“Therion—”

“Look, it’s flattering that you care, but...you shouldn’t.”

Alfyn stops.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” he barks. “I stick around _because_ I care! You know I couldn’t have just _left_ you there. It wouldn’t be right!”

The thief turns his head, expression tense. “Don’t even start, Alfyn. I know you don’t mean it. Trust me, I’ve seen it before. No one gives a damn about me. I could disappear tomorrow and—”

The apothecary grips his arm, suddenly consumed with anger.

“You don’t _get_ it, do you?! I know you won’t believe me, but I wouldn’t _be_ here if I didn’t care!”

Therion freezes, staring blankly at him. Seconds pass, and he quickly averts his eyes to stare at something in the distance. Alfyn continues.

“Listen to yourself, Therion. How can you say something like that?”

Alfyn takes Therion by the chin and turns his head to look at him. He looks like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do.

“I don’t know what happened to make you like this, but…I want to help you move past that. You mean a lot to me, even if you don’t think so. And I want to do everything I can to help you.”

Therion is speechless. He blinks.

“A-Alfyn, I…”

The thief attempts to withdraw, but Alfyn is still holding on to his arm. He opens his mouth to speak, but any and all words are stuck in his throat. He swallows nervously, and suddenly wishes he was still wearing his scarf so he could easily hide behind it.

He makes another attempt at forming a coherent sentence. “I, uh… Th-thanks.”

Alfyn smiles bitterly at this, caught between relief and uneasiness at the shift in mood. He wordlessly goes back to cleaning out Therion’s wound.

“Actually, can I tell you something?” Therion asks.

Alfyn nods. “Go ahead, Theri.”

The thief pretends like his face isn’t bright red. He clears his throat.

“I… I don’t mind traveling with you. I actually, uh…”

The words are dead and lifeless on his tongue. He tries again.

“Alfyn, I’m…”

 _In love with you,_ he so desperately wants to say, but it’s like there’s an invisible wall stopping him from forcing the words out.

This isn’t working. He needs to _show_ Alfyn how he feels instead of trying to put it into words. 

By now, the blond has put his task on hold for the moment as he eyes Therion with curiosity. An idea sparks in Therion’s head, but it involves closing the distance between them. Is that really the best idea? What if Alfyn doesn’t like it?

He decides to go for it. He reaches forward, gently placing a hand on Alfyn’s neck, and pulls him forward to press their lips together. Alfyn melts into the kiss, but Therion is too busy squeezing his eyes shut to notice. And then it’s over just as quickly as it starts.

“I… I’m sorry,” Therion stammers, emerald eyes flashing with panic. “I should’ve asked before I—”

“Therion.”

He stops.

Alfyn eyes him with gentle concern, like Therion is a frightened animal and he’s the handler.

“It’s okay,” the apothecary whispers, tracing calloused fingertips over Therion’s bony knuckles. “You’re not at fault here.”

He moves his hand to brush the back of Therion’s neck.

“I’ve actually been harboring the same feelings for a while now. You’re so strong, and determined… I thought about telling you, but I never imagined you would beat me to it, haha.”

Therion’s face is so red it almost rivals the apples he eats. He ducks his head shyly.

“I’m...glad,” he finally mutters. “That— That means a lot.”

Alfyn smiles at this, before kissing the thief’s forehead softly.

“I’ll never leave you, Theri. I promise.”

That seems to lift Therion’s mood, because his lips curl up ever so slightly. He looks up at Alfyn again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the blond replies, and it’s now that he decides it’s a good time to return to the gash on Therion’s shoulder. The disinfectant hurts less now.

Silence falls like the setting sun behind them, and Therion wishes he could say more, but there really isn’t anything else that needs to be said. As Alfyn finishes bandaging his shoulder, he briefly wonders which of the gods must have smiled upon him to bless him with someone like Alfyn. He’s so kind and patient and just so damn _understanding_ and Therion doesn’t feel like he deserves any of it. And sure, Alfyn is a bit of a nag sometimes, but it’s because he has a heart of gold and just wants the best for those he cares about.

...Which includes _him_ now. The thief has a hard time wrapping his head around that. To think that someone would actually _care,_ for once. It almost seems like some wild dream.

But _Alfyn,_ Alfyn is not a dream. He’s as real as the ground he walks on, as real as the sun and the stars and everything that Therion can see, and Therion can’t believe he somehow stumbled upon such luck. Alfyn really, _really_ is too good to be true.

And Therion is absolutely, undoubtedly, in love.


End file.
